Black Candles
by Allison Elder
Summary: I'm the only one with any chance of ending this war..but to do so I fear I've done the unthinkable: To dance with the devil, one must first forfeit one's own soul. The definition of a tragedy is a story in which the main character dies. This is my Tragedy
1. To die will be a great adventure

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of Ms. Rowling's wonderful creations. Nor do I own any of the various songs that may be presented throughout the length of this fanfiction. The various songs will be named at the end of the fic, as well as in the chapter within which they lie.**

_**One of the lovely reviewers on my story, Spinning Bottles, suggested that I work a Hermione/Lucius fic, so here it is. It's one that I've been working on for a while. I must ask you all, however, not to expect speedy updates on it. It's on a backburner until Spinning Bottles and Pen Pal have finished. Sorry ahead of time.**_

_**Yours,**_

_**Allison**_

**Prologue**

"You know, Miss Granger, that you do not **have** to do this? We are not forcing you..." Minerva McGonagall said grimly. Hermione Granger closed her eyes and rested her forehead in her hand for a long moment before lifting her head and putting her hand down.

"I understand, Professor." She said, softly. "However, I find the mission most important...and I **_am_** the only one suitable for the task unless you call Tonks back from her mission in Africa. Also...you cannot use any of the men because of the obvious...Lucius Malfoy is not homosexual."

McGonagall sighed in defeat and nodded. Hermione was right.Harry, however, would not be happy. She sighed. "You understand that there will only be one way to communicate safely from here on out?" At the younger woman's sharp nod, the elderly witch felt a deep pang of regret. Hermione Granger had been in the order for six years now...ever since the end of her sixth year at Hogwarts when her parents had died at Voldemort's wand. She was as ready for this mission as one could possibly be for a mission that would take the rest of her life to accomplish...give or take. She, Harry, and Ron had never finished school...had, indeed, been fighting Voldemort without stopping ever since Snape's betrayal and Dumbledore's death at the end of their sixth year. Hermione had been the first to join the order...while the other two remained rogue until the technical end of their seventh year.

Hermione hated Severus Snape, with a passion. He has been the one who had killed her parents. He'd known she was in the house...he'd been the one who'd nearly caught her before she'd escaped. But he'd killed her parents first. Snape knew Hermione. He'd known that she wouldn't leave until she'd watched her parents die...that she'd blame herself and therefore force herself to watch. If her parents could suffer the torture and the death, after all, she would feel that the least she could do was watch every second of it.

Her parents, it seemed, had been better informed of the happenings in the wizarding world and the very real dangers to their lives than Hermione might have previously believed. They had set up a trust fund for her with all of their worldly fortune...a considerable ammount, since they were dentists and dentists tended to make quite a lot of money...in case of their death. Therefore, she'd been living well.

"Lucius Malfoy, as you know, likes redheads. You fit the build of his ideal woman, and your intelligence matches up as well. Your greatest hurdle will be Severus Snape." Even after six years, Minerva had to force herself not to sneer in disgust at the name of her traitorous ex-colleague. "He will remember well his greatest and favorite pupil." Hermione snorted.

"I will be getting a complete makeover from Ginny Weasley tonight, and Parvati Patil and her business partner, Lavender Weasley, will be helping me to make the makeover permanent." Hermione said quietly. "Percy and Penelope Weasley will both be pulling strings in the ministry to have my name officially changed, via several paths. Hermione Granger will, first of all, die in a duel with Jackson Wormhair tonight. Wormhair is a known Voldemort supporter, who I've already challenged."

"I don't want to know all of the details. We will, however, need to set up your Witch's Glass immediately, as well as your voice signature and password. Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and I will each have a matching Witch's Glasses, and we will all be able to speak at appointed times. Your undercover work may or may not allow you to meet us every time we meet...so you will be able to signal another meeting with the same galleons that you set up for the meetings of your Army in your Fifth year as well as the galleons that you set up for the Order meetings."

"No." Minerva looked at the younger woman in surprise. "Those galleons will signal everyone. I will work something out shortly...set up only for the three of you. You will have it by the time that I disappear, later tonight. And remember...until I signal the first meeting, there must be no attempt to contact me. I will not signal the meeting until my cover is secure."

Hogwarts' Headmistress felt a rush of love for her young student as she looked down at the brilliant young woman fondly. "Right. We'll get the Witch's glass set up now, then?" When Hermione nodded, Minerva smiled and handed her the small silver mirror that would serve much like a walkie talkie for the witch in the future.

"Sorsentra Luminesca." Hermione whispered, tapping the surface of the glass with her wand. She then said in her every day voice, after some consideration "Cinderellie Cinderellie." After her favorite muggle Fairy Tale...

Tucking the mirror into her robe pockets, she nodded to her professor and disappeared into her room. Later that evening, Minerva found a small blue drawstring bag of velvet with three small knuts inside, along with a note.

_Professor McGonagall-_

_By the time you recieve this, I'll have already left. Inside of this bag, with this letter, are three knuts, charmed exactly like the galleons that we used for the order. One is for Harry, and one is for Ron. They will not be spendable. Any attempt to spend them will result in their immediately being summoned back to your pocket. The same goes for leaving them behind. This is so none of us can displace them. My Gringotts Vault has already been emptied and prepared for this project. Do not ask Ginny, Parvati, Lavender, Percy, or Penelope for details...I am obliviating them as soon as their tasks are done._

_In short, dear professor, I am the only one who will know who I am and where I am. I have already charmed my Witch's Glass to show me as I used to be...not as I currently am. Therefore, the three of you will see the witch that you knew...not the girl who was made over by Parvati, Lavender, and Ginny. I apologize for these measures, Professor, but I feel that they are necessary for the good of this mission. Tell Harry that it never would have worked between us. I see too often how he looks at Ginny...and I give him my blessings in that quarter._

_Perhaps, one day, when this war is all over...perhaps then we'll be able to meet once more, as acquaintances and colleagues. Perhaps I'll be able to take up that job as Transfiguration Professor, as you asked. For now, however, I bid you Adieu. My heart will always be with you, and our cause._

_Your loving Student,_

_Hermione Janette Granger_

Minerva smiled sadly at this, wiping away a tear of pride in her young student as she tucked the note and the bag away. Still, knowing the reality of the situation didn't lessen her grief when she opened the Daily Prophet up to the Obituaries and read the familiar name there, seeing the smiling picture of the young Gryffindor woman who had promised her all to their cause. Nor did it make her job any easier when that woman's two best friends arrived at Hogwarts in the dead of night, half-mad with grief, demanding to know what was happening.

**randomwordsindicatingscenebreak**

Lucius Malfoy smirked as he studied the article in the paper before him. Harry Potter's best friend and one true love had been killed at the hand of one of the most incompetent excuses for a deatheater that Lord Voldemort had recruited. Of course, the fool boy had gotten the Dementor's Kiss immediately afterwards. There hadn't even been a trial, from what Lucius had heard. And now...everything was perfect.

Well...as perfect as the bottom of a bottle could be. Since his beloved Narcissa's death, Lucius had not felt a moment of happiness. Not that living with the old bag had been much easier...but at least she'd brought some sense of purpose to his wretched life. He sighed and tossed the empty bottle of Firewhiskey aside, hearing the satisfying shatter and managing a drunken smirk. He'd even been reduced to relying on that foolish son of his to get things done.

Narcissa Malfoy had been slaughtered by Hermione Granger in a duel two years before. Jackson Wormhair had relieved Lucius of any need to seek revenge by killing the rather dangerous mudblood. It was a good day for Lucius, for Narcissa had been a far better duelist than he was and if she could not take the brilliant young witch with a mind quicker than the Avada Kedavra spell's effect, then he was outmatched by far. Thinking on this, he wondered how in the hell Wormhair had managed to kill the smartest witch to grace the halls of Hogwarts since Voldemort himself roamed the halls. His drunken mind was forced to shrug it off, however, when the door to his study opened and his colleague, Severus Snape, swept in.

Severus had been one of the leading factors in Lucius' escape from Azkaban- the Wizard Prison...a task for which the blonde now owed the snarky potions master an unthinking, unhesitating favor. Put in blunt, unsophisticated (In this case, the word **unsophisticated** may be taken to mean that the terms were not layered with gallons of the delicate, never ending mind dance that aristocrats force each other to endure. Snore.) terms...Lucius now owed Severus a type of life debt. A fact which Hogwarts' ex potions master was quick to point out at every opportunity.

'_Snarky old Bastard..._' Lucius thought vehemently to himself as he turned, his face the expressionless void that he wore constantly...to be replaced only by a sneer or a smirk, of course. And even then, only in public when it might most humiliate or infuriate someone. Oh, there was the odd occasion here and there in which he lost control...but they were rare. Very, very rare.

"Lucius...I assume you've seen the Prophet?" Snape asked, his voice that oiled bastardous mutter that had been protected over many years worth of intimidating the hell out of students.

"Indeed, Severus. I've had the...pleasure..." Lucius took care to put just the right ammount of emphasis on the word that it made him seem to be two steps short of no longer being able to contain the rage that he didn't feel. "...of reading about the death of Harry Potter's sidekick."

"Then you know as well as I do that something is...off...about this." Severus said, sitting without an invitation to. Lucius bit his tongue to keep his expression empty.

"Off, Severus?" He molded his voice, like clay, into a quizzical tone of clear disbelief.

"Hermione Granger won that duel, Lucius. I was there. She was beating him hands down when a mist suddenly engulfed the battle field. When it ended, there was simply a dead body where Miss Granger had once been. Nobody even heard the killing curse." When Severus was met with nothing but his colleague's blank stare, he growled. "It's a _set up_, Lucius."

"Severus, I do believe you've been spending far too much time sweating and swearing over those potions that the Dark Lord commissioned you to make." Lucius said dismissively. "Miss Granger is dead and there is nothing left to say for it. One less Mudblood in the world, and you should be delightful about it." He waved a black-gloved hand with an air of indifference. "Now, if you are quite finished...I believe that you have yet to finish the task set before you by our Lord?"

Severus fought back a growl of impatience. He probably thought that Lucius didn't notice, the blonde thought with wry amusement. Voldemort had proclaimed Severus useless in a field of battle...having blown his cover among the Order of the Phoenix...and so the potions master had been confined to the Malfoy Manor doing just what he had been trained to do. Brewing potions. Lucius noted that the other man didn't seem as happy with the news of Miss Granger's death as he should have.

"Honestly, Severus...if you don't believe that she's dead, why don't you attend the funeral?" Lucius drawled with exaggerated patience. "All it would take was an invisibility cloak."

"Perhaps I will. You, however, will be going with me." The blonde bit his tongue, tasting the iron tang of blood. He bloody well did not want to go to that damned funeral.

"As you wish, Severus." He bit out.

"The funeral is in two days, Lucius. I will see you then." With that, the greasy potions master swept out, leaving Lucius to glare after him.

**ilikecheesecakedoyoulikecheesecakeyumcheesecake**

Severus Snape, contrary to his sneering words to Lucius, felt no satisfaction as he looked into the coffin that held the girl that he could have loved. He'd seen himself in Hermione Granger...and had so removed his influence to avoid turning her into him. And now she was dead. Not only had he failed Dumbledore, he'd failed Hermione. Not that he'd done much. His first and only loyalty was to the Dark Lord. So why did he feel so empty, watching the earth rise up to engulf the coffin and the headstone, setting each of them deep? Perhaps it was that he hadn't truly believed that the bright young witch could be dead...he'd seen Jackson Wormhair duel, and the incompetent twit would have been bested by Hermione when she was in third year, let alone the brilliant duelist that she'd become.

Lucius didn't wonder what Severus was thinking, for he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts, remembering the fire in the young mudblood's eyes as she'd met his gaze when she was younger...challenging him...daring him to try something. He'd admired her, he realized. Somehow, she'd demanded his respect...and something deep within him had given it. Ah well, one less Mudblood in the world now. He smirked as he and Severus turned and swept out of the graveyard, unnoticed.

The world was officially a better place.


	2. Kira Bronwen

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of Ms. Rowling's wonderful creations. Nor do I own any of the various songs that may be presented throughout the length of this fanfiction. The various songs will be named at the end of the fic, as well as in the chapter within which they lie.**

_**Just because I'm bored and not likely to get another chapter of this out for a while, I'll throw out the first chapter to give you all some small idea of the plot.**_

_**Yours,**_

_**Allison**_

**Chapter One**

It had been a whole year since Hermione Granger had died. There had been no word. Six months after her death, a new face had appeared in the world of evil. It was random at first...a muggle's death here and there. It wasn't until muggleborns started dying left and right that Lucius was ordered to contact this new evil. He was informed immediately that '_La Dama de la Muerte_,' as she was known in Spain, would be pleased indeed to meet with his Master.

Which was why Voldemort's innermost circle of Death Eaters was gathered here at this desolate place, watching the time nervously as their Lord sat like a king on the litter that he'd forced Pettigrew to levitate all of the way down from the mansion. At nine on the dot, a crouching figure in dark purple robes appeared among their midst, followed by two others in deep emerald robes. The figure in purple straightened, pushing the hood of its cloak back to reveal a thin, nicely tanned face, slender and haughty. She looked to be a natural redhead, her hair long and elegant in its rich auburn hues. The rich purple of her cloak accented her tan and her hair nicely, making her seem somehow...other. The two figures in red robes hesitated, obviously waiting for some kind of command. The haughty arrogance of her expression never wavered as she made a single motion with a perfectly tanned, slender hand.

The hood of the figure on Voldemort's right went first, to reveal an exotic asian queen with glittering jade eyes that promised violence. She was significantly shorter than the beauty who obviously commanded them, but no less deadly looking. The last woman was very obviously African. Her skin was a black so pure that it glinted almost purple, her hair just as dark and in hundreds of tiny braids, pulled back into an exotic style. Her glittering black eyes, too, promised violence and death in such a scale that several Death Eaters, including Severus, took a step back in alarm.

"Which one of you is _La Dama de la Muerte_?" Voldemort asked. Lucius bit his lip. It was painfully obvious who the Spaniards called the Lady of Death. The dagger-driven blue-eyed gaze of the blonde turned to Voldemort and she seemed to size him up for a long moment.

"Lord Voldemort, I presume." She said, and Lucius bit down even harder to keep himself from moving to her and bowing to the command in her voice. That a mere chit of a girl could command that much sheer **_power_** was almost unthinkable to him, making her seem even more otherworldly. "You're smaller than I expected."

The audacity of her comment seemed to catch the Dark Lord off guard for a long moment, and he seemed to study her, sizing her up. After a long moment, he smiled. "Welcome, Madame. It is a true..._pleasure_...to meet you. And these lovely ladies...?"

"My companions, Xue and Asabi." The women behind her shifted, though they never moved other than that.

"And you? We can hardly go about calling you _La Dama de la Muerte_ all of the time." Voldemort all but purred. Lucius fought back the urge to sneer.

"I am Kira Bronwen." She said, her dark eyes holding Voldemort's snake-like ones steadily. After a long moment, he bowed formally at the waist and she returned the favor.

"Kira. I would request that you join me...us..." A pale, sickly slender hand motioned to the men standing around in the circle within which the three women stood. "...in our quest to purge our world of mudbloods."

Lucius sensed the women behind Kira shifting, but the beauty herself seemed made of marble. "To serve you?"

"To be my equal, My Lady." Voldemort said, softly. Lucius hesitated. Surely the vixen standing before them wasn't that stupid...

"We shall see, Lord Voldemort." Kira's voice was calm and even. Lucius felt the rush of heat run through him at her nonchalant voice. She hadn't been fooled! "These things, after all, take time to negociate."

"Of course, of course..." Voldemort said. "Are you in England for long?"

"Unfortunately no." Kira said, "I have not found a place to stay as of yet...as my reputation tends to precede me, I think you can understand that I did not wish to stay at a public Inn or Bed and Breakfast."

"Nonsense, My Lady! You are always free to stay with me. Or, if it suits you better, with one of my Death Eaters." Lucius watched with a strangely bated breath as the slender witch surveyed Voldemort critically for several moments before nodding sharply.

"If I may speak, My Lord?" Lucius heard Severus' silky drawl from the spot directly to Voldemort's left. He himself was on Voldemort's direct right.

"Of course, Severus." Voldemort hissed.

"I would be more than pleased to allow Lady Bronwen to room at my manor." Severus began, to be cut off quickly by Lucius.

"Nonsense, Severus! Your home is no place for a woman!" He said, surprising even himself with his outburst.

"You have a better idea, Lucius?" Voldemort purred. Lucius swallowed hard. Here was hoping...

"The Malfoy Manor is much better...equipped...to entertain guests of this calibur, My Lord." Lucius said, softly. "That is all that I was implying."

During this exchange, Severus Snape- safely hidden behind his mask- noted that Kira Bronwen seemed to shift at the sound of his and Lucius' names. It was the first time she'd moved- other than to speak- since she'd arrived, and he noted it with no shortage of suspicion. Her expression, however, never changed...making him doubly suspicious, of course. When he tried to dive into her mind, however, her eyes narrowed sharply and she turned that imperious, icey, blue-eyed stare to him. Voldemort had been about to speak to Lucius when he noticed the slow turning of the woman's head.

Severus brought both hands to his throat before he could stop himself, trying desperately to find a breath through the inky blackness that was all he'd found within the mind of the witch. He dropped to his knees before he could stop himself, and he heard, distantly, the chanting of a soft, feminine voice. When the darkness began to clear, he could see a dispassionate pair of blue eyes above him. His mask had been removed and he was able to breathe freely at last. As the witch stepped away from him, leaving him to recover his breath- and his strength- he heard Voldemort's voice in the background.

"I've heard of the Legilimar spell...but I have never yet met anyone strong enough to pull it off without detection." Severus was shocked, to say the least, that he'd never even **_heard_ **of the spell, let alone been given the chance to attempt it.

"I studied in a little-known academy in Spain where I studied the spell." He heard the icey, smoothe voice state matter-of-factly. "The Legilimar spell fascinated me. To know that, no matter what, your mind is safe from Legilimens. To know the moment that someone was trying to intrude in your thoughts...and that they would die unless you chose to forgive them? It appealed to me."

"You are sure you will be quite comfortable with Lucius?" Severus struggled into a sitting position, staring as the Dark Lord Voldemort, ruthless murderer of hundreds, fretted over whether or not this young witch- who was less than half his age- would be comfortable.

"Do not worry, My Lord." Kira said, her voice level. "I am sure we will be fine." Severus watched as the woman turned to Lucius. "Won't we, Lucius?"

"Of course, My Lady." Lucius bowed formally and smiled cordially at her. Severus glared silently at the powerful witch who had nearly killed him without even lifting her wand. She looked at him, and he felt like flinching back in fear...which made him begin to hate her.

"I apologize, Mr. Snape." She said, calmly. "However, as you can plainly see, attempting to dive into my thoughts is not a good idea."

"Nevermind that." Voldemort hissed, taking her arm and leading her to the apparition point...her silent, stone-carven companions close behind. Kira thanked him and turned to gaze up at Lucius.

"I will have to apparate with the three of you. Just concentrate on following me." He stated. Kira nodded sharply as he placed his hand in hers. A thrill went through the both of them, leaving Lucius fairly breathless and Kira to look at him in a silent, appraising way as Xue and Asabi rested their hands on his shoulders. Voldemort noticed the tiny thrill of magic pass between the two of them as well, and he studied the young woman before him...wishing desperately that he would be able to get into her mind before the Legilimar spell struck him deaf dumb and blind until she released him from its deadly effects. He would enjoy knowing exactly what was going through her mind.

"Right, then..." Lucius cleared his throat. "Let us be off. Simply concentrate on following me, and you'll apparate safely." He said, concentrating. After a moment, the four of them apparated and were gone.

Severus moved to Voldemort wearily. "Are you quite certain we should trust her, My Lord?"

"I'm quite certain, Severus, that we should not trust her." Voldemort replied, staring pensievely at the spot where one of his most faithful servants had disappeared. "We cannot see into her mind thanks to the protection of the Legilimar, and she gives nothing away with her expression or movements. We shall keep an eye on her, but she will be a valuable ally against Potter." Voldemort all but spat the word. Harry Potter had been nothing but a thorn in his side since the death of Hermione Granger. It was like the young man had finally decided that the war had gone far enough, and he was going to stop it. Voldemort had almost found it amusing at first. Of course, it had been six months since he'd found anything particularly amusing...which was why he'd sought out _La Dama de la Muerte_. Well...that and the fact that he didn't want to share the title of Dark Lord. If he had to share the post with anyone...why not make it a Queen?

Severus looked at his lord for a long moment. "My Lord...?"

Voldemort pulled himself out of his reverie. "That will be all, Severus. Continue developing that potion, I expect a full report by the next meeting." With that, he disapparated. Severus stared at the spot where Voldemort had disappeared for a long moment before sighing and disapparating.

**missmarymacmacmacalldressedinblackblackblack**

Kira moved about the suite of rooms that Lucius had led Xue, Asabi, and herself to, checking for any attempts at spying. She even went so far as to cast a highly specialized spell to point out any devices or spells that would enable Lucius to spy. She then pulled a knut out of her robes and tapped it with her wand, muttering a time later that night. Dinner was to be served at Seven, so she gave herself three hours to get back to her room, setting the meeting at ten.

Asabi sighed softly and curled against the soft pillows of Kira's giant bed. Xue stood silent and unmoving in a corner. Kira sighed and cleaned herself up. After Xue and Asabi finished washing up, they took off their cloaks and shifted the highly specialized robes that they wore underneath before nodding to Kira, who slipped her cloak off and set it aside, adjusting her own robes. The robes were a perfect match for the cloaks, and the three women made sure they were tidied up before turning as the young Draco Malfoy opened the door and stared.

Draco had never seen a witch as absolutely stunning as Kira Bronwen. His father had warned him of _La Dama de la Muerte'_s appeal, but he hadn't fully believed it until he opened the door of the guest suite and saw the dispassionate blue eyes already directed towards him, power radiating from her in a flurry as she glanced towards the clock that his father had placed beside the bed. With a sharp nod, she glanced to Xue and Asabi, who fell in line behind her as she walked easily behind Draco...who was increasingly more self conscious with each movement that she made at his back. He was relieved when they stepped into the dining room, where his father was already waiting, standing at the head of the table.

"Lady Bronwen..." Lucius said cordially as he held out a chair for Kira. With a discreet glance at Asabi and Xue, Kira gave a tight, controlled smile before sinking gracefully into the seat. The younger Malfoy held out chairs for first Asabi and then Xue before he, himself, sat on his father's left and directly across from Kira.

"Lord Malfoy. We thank you for your hospitality." Kira said, calmly. "I would also like to apologize for any inconvenience that this has caused you."

"Nonsense. You have done nothing inconvenient." Lucius all but purred. Xue and Asabi glanced at each other before turning to the food that the House Elves set out, letting their mistress set her trap. It had to be set well, they knew...so that when the noose closed, there was no going back.

Kira and Lucius spent the entirity of the dinner hour flirting in a stiff, formal way that made Draco want to puke. He supposed, however, that his father deserved some happiness. Narcissa Malfoy had been a royal whorish bitch, but she had given his father some warped, twisted sense of purpose. Really, other than that, Hermione Granger had done his father and himself both a great service.

Not that he would admit it, of course.

"Lady Bronwen." Lucius all but purred as they stood. The three ladies were almost to the door, but they turned back to look at him. "Would you do me the honor of joining me in the den for a bit of an after-dinner drink?"

Something swam beneath the empty depths of those dispassionate blue eyes, but it was gone before Draco could recognize it. "I beg your pardon, Lord Malfoy, but my ladies and I are very tired. It has been an exeedingly long trip, and I'm afraid that I must beg your leave to retire on this night. Perhaps tomorrow?" It held just the right ammount of remorse...just the right tint of hope.

"Of course, My Lady..." Lucius moved to her, raising one slender, elegant hand to her cheek in a gesture that was too familiar to be entirely formal. "It is I who should be apologizing, my dear." He murmured, Storm-cloud gray eyes meeting Sunny-day blue eyes. "It was inconsiderate of me not to remember that you have been travelling often, of late, and would, of course, be tired." Draco shifted uncomfortably, and Kira's companions averted their gazes. Such a scene would have been much better behind bedroom walls.

Lucius was uncertain as to why, exactly, he was being so delicate with her...so flirtatious. She attracted him, certainly...it would be impossible for those attracted by power- as Lucius was- not to be attracted by this young beauty. She was powerful, she was gorgeous, she was evil...she was, in short, everything that Lucius Malfoy wanted in a woman. It was like a magnet drew his gaze from her eyes to her lips and he heard her breath speed up as if she knew where his intense gaze had focused. Slowly, he leaned in until his lips pressed delicately against hers.

His taste was intoxicating. Strawberry Wine. His smell...the stetson cologne that she had smelled on her first love...a fling many, many years before when she'd visited the United States. His lips were soft...not at all cold and hard like she'd expected them...and when he pulled back, his stormy eyes glittered with a light that- had she not known better- she would have assumed was lightning striking within the depths of his eyes. For her own part, she kept her eyes dispassionate, as she knew from bitter experience that she wasn't much good at dictating which particular emotion they contained. It was far easier to keep them dispassionate and detatched.

"Good night, My Lord." She murmured vaguely, drawing back from his touch. He seemed in a daze as he watched her, and she forced her thoughts to the present, spinning and striding from the room, robes billowing about her, with all of the fury of an approaching storm.

**withsilverbuttonsbuttonsbuttonsalldownherbackbackback**

Harry jumped as he felt his pocket burn. Reaching inside, he grasped a coin and drew it out, opening his fist to see the knut there that McGonagall had given him over a year before. Frowning, he looked at the serial number before sighing and looking up to meet Ron's eyes. They had been having dinner at the Burrow...their first peaceful dinner since Hermione's death. Now, finally, they had a reason to dare to hope.

At ten exactly, Harry and Ron hurried into Ron's old bedroom to activate their Witch's glasses. A familiar face appeared...perfectly tanned, hair framing her face. The only difference were her eyes...they were detached and dispassionate, much unlike they'd been during the trio's years at Hogwarts. "Minerva." Her voice was the same, too...if a bit colder.

"Hello Hermione, my dear." They could hear the Headmistress' voice and glance at their Witch's Glasses once more as another picture came into view. The glass seemed to separate in half diagonally, leaving Hermione on one half and Minerva McGonagall's face on the other. "How have you been?"

Hermione's lips twitched at the question. "As well as can be expected, Minerva. But I haven't much time and this isn't a pleasure meeting." She turned her eyes to Harry and Ron for the first time. "Hello, boys." That was it...nothing more. Turning back to Minerva, she continued speaking. "I told you that I would contact you once my cover was secure. I apologize for taking so long, but I could not risk anything until I was sure that the suspicion for my 'death' wouldn't fall to me."

"Where have you been!" Harry demanded. Her eyes shot to his.

"You do not want to know." Something in her eyes made Harry wish he'd never asked. Something cold gathered in the pit of his stomach and he flinched visibly.

Hermione turned back to Minerva, who was speaking. "I'm sorry that you've had to do this, my dear. I wish we could have chosen someone else..."

"Nonsense, Minerva." The young witch's voice went hard. "Now we've already been through this and it's too late for regrets, do you hear me?" She paused, suddenly, and looked away from the glass. "What is it?" Her voice was suddenly colder than frozen nitrogen and twice as deadly. Someone seemed to speak from behind her, and when she answered, it was in a curse. "Blast it all! If it's not the father, it's the son...tell him I'll be there in a minute."

"Hermione?" Minerva asked.

"I'm sorry, Minerva, but I've just arrived back in England and it seems that my presence is required by my host. I will be in touch." And then she was gone.

"Blimey!" Ron whispered. Harry silently agreed as he looked to Minerva.

"Headmistress...what do you wish us to do?" He asked. She was beginning to show her age, bless her.

"We don't have a choice, Harry." She admitted. "We'll have to trust that not only is that actually Hermione, but that she's still got enough good left in her heart to do her duty properly."

Harry was silent for a long time before he spoke. "I have a feeling that we might need a backup plan, Professor."


	3. A Demanding Master

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of Ms. Rowling's wonderful creations. Nor do I own any of the various songs that may be presented throughout the length of this fanfiction. The various songs will be named at the end of the fic, as well as in the chapter within which they lie.**

**A big thanks and a shout out goes to:**

**The Gryffindor Drummer – Thank you.**

**screwtheperfectlife – Yeah...but you'll see that- later on especially- she has to be cold and heartless.**

**goldenlioness1102 – Thank you. I'm glad you enjoy this story.**

**Alenor – I'm glad you like it.**

**Applekissis – Yeah, it is. I've read one similar to it before and I decided to adapt the idea.**

_**Well...here is your last update before I continue working on my Christmas Present for all of you. No, I shan't tell you what it is. I will tell you, however, that it saddens me to do it at the same time that it makes me happy. Nothing more...my lips are sealed! Well...in this case, my fingers are stilled. ...Heaven help me, I've become a poet...**_

_**Yours,**_

_**Allison**_

**Chapter 2**

Kira stood silently between Lucius and Voldemort, watching dispassionately as Asabi and one of the deatheaters employed their great love of pain to extract information from a spy that the Order of the Phoenix- she had been told much of the Order by Lucius just prior to this summoning- had had the gall to send undercover in a desperate attempt to gain information. _La Dama de la Muerte_ had been in England for three weeks; however, and though she had been careful to keep a low profile, many people had found out that she was in the country and were hunting her. Harry Potter, for one. Xue was on an errand for Kira, concluding the last of their business in England, and the three women would be leaving immediately after Kira and Voldemort were both satisfied that they had gained all of the information from the wench that they could.

"Gryffindor's seal is...is in Potter's hands..." The young woman, no older than Draco, gasped out. Kira felt Voldemort still at this piece of information, though she said nothing and gave no indication that she'd noticed.

"Where is he keeping it?" Voldemort hissed, reaching up to pet Nagini as if assuring himself that she was there.

"I don't know." Pansy Parkinson wailed, tears and blood mingling on her face. Voldemort looked at Kira, who had stepped forward at the young woman's reluctance.

"Asabi." The other woman stopped immediately, holding a hand out to prevent McNair from striking Pansy again. She shrugged off her cloak and turned. Lucius was there immediately, taking it from her. _La Dama de la Muerte_ shifted her billowing sleeves, tying them up to keep the blood from them. Voldemort studied her with an appraising look as she tapped her wand to her hair, tying it back in a fiercely tight braid that was coiled up...the locks that normally fell to the middle of her back twisted and curved into an elegant style to keep it both off of her back and out of her face. She then tucked her wand away somewhere in the folds of her robes and reached for the Cat 'o' Nine Tails held towards her by her _el Sirviente de la Muerte_, her servant of death.

"Muggle torture methods, my dear?" Voldemort asked.

The smile she gave him as those dispassionate blue eyes met his made Voldemort tremble...whether with desire or fear, he knew not. "Not necessarily, Lord Voldemort." She said, lifting the weapon up. Just before the metal spikes at the end of each tail of the whip was a tiny metal container much like a snake's venom sac. "Each contains a different potion, many of which I'm sure your potions master will be able to identify the moment that they take effect. Some, however, are native to Spain...so he might not recognize them quite so readily." With this, she lifted the elegant, beautiful weapon...

...and pulled the truth from Pansy's sobbing, screaming, begging lips.

**ireallyneedtofindabunchofcoolominousquotesforthisficsscenebreaks**

Kira closed her eyes as she knelt over a random toilet of a random truckstop emptying the last of her stomach's contents. She had cast a silencing spell on the stall as soon as she had entered, dropping to her knees and vomiting. The saddest part of it all wasn't that she was throwing up after what she'd done to Pansy Parkinson before Voldemort had finally granted the girl death...it was that she, Kira, didn't feel guilty. She **wasn't** repulsed by what she'd done, what Pansy had had to deal with.

It was part of what she had made herself. It had taken the constant use of the time turner throughout her entire year's worth of studying and developing in Spain. Part of making the reputation that she had needed to force Voldemort to seek her. She had become a sociopath.

Wiping her mouth, she pulled out the mirror that was her Witch's Glass and studied her features. A few cosmetic charms later and she emerged from the stall in a flurry of robes, imperious look firmly implanted on her face.

"Where are we going next?" Asabi asked, pulling out the portkey that they would need. Kira didn't answer for a long moment. Her _Los Sirvientes de la Muerte_ didn't care, though...they were used to the icey silence. Kira paused before looking towards the mansion on the hill that overlooked the town, giving it a distasteful glance and turning back to the women.

"We're going home for the moment." She stated. Asabi and Xue glanced at each other. Home, as far as the word went, was where the rest of _los Sirvientes de la Muerte_ lived. Australia, for those who did not know where the 'House of Death' was. Few knew of its location...one, of course, had been added to that list just recently. Kira and Voldemort had agreed to trade a servant, each, to be 'ambassadors'. Which, in all truth, was simply Dark Wizard Speak for 'spies.'

Kira would, of course, choose her own spy when they arrived at the House of Death. Or '_La Casa de la Muerte_.' It would likely be one of the several _sirvientes_ that had accompanied her from England, a year before, to be subjected to the most rigorous form of training known to wizardkind. The Spanish Academy of Death was one that only the most dedicated witches and wizards could survive. It taught its students how to kill...how to remove themselves from all feelings...and it did so in record times. Hermione Granger wouldn't have made it **into** the academy, let alone through all of the tests that one was required to take before graduating. Kira Bronwen, however, had done what she had needed to. She had been given this mission...the chance to avenge her parents, Dumbledore, Harry's parents...everyone...and there was no way that she was going to blow it.

She knew that her blue eyes were eerie, because she was taken aback almost every time she looked in the mirror. The eyes were the one thing that she couldn't manage to cover with a spell while she was conversing with Harry, Ron, and Minerva. Oh, she could make them brown again...give them the golden flecks that Ron had always pointed out...but she couldn't force them- no matter how many spells she tried- to show emotion. This was a bit of a problem, as Hermione Granger had tended to give away slightly too much with her eyes. Kira gave away nothing at all.

She knew what would happen at the end of the war. Oh, they'd call her a hero and parade her around under Harry's protection, but that wouldn't be enough. Not only would the crowd not be satisfied, but Kira herself would not be satisfied. Being caged...stuck at Hogwarts- for, indeed, that was whe they had done to Severus Snape- teaching imbeciles when she'd once commanded power enough to make **adults** bow before her? It was a sure way to break her spirit. She'd rather french kiss a dementor than live life cooped away to grow old, her magical abilities unworked. She enjoyed the power that she commanded. Indeed, she thought that it was a rather fair trade for selling her soul to the devil to have a way to end the war. Not that she regretted it. If anything, she regretted most her inability to regret...knowing that she had slaughtered exactly thirty muggles and half again that many muggleborns in Spain...and that she was joining with Evil Incarnated. She did not regret any of it.

Nor was she afraid to die. If anything, she knew, death would be a mercy for someone such as her.

She remembered when Minerva McGonagall had approached her with the mission. Harry had forbid Ginny to do it...saying that he was looking out for her as a brother would...and Molly Weasley had died the year before. Oh, there were other women in the order...but they were all married or otherwise attached, and that had left Hermione. No doubt Harry would have forbidden her to go on the mission...would have extracted the same promise from her lips that he had from Ginny's...but she had been gone before he could. She had disappeared while he was on a mission. It was cowardly of her, yes...but it was also because the mission couldn't afford to wait much longer.

When she had become Kira Bronwen inside as well as out, she wasn't sure. The Academy of Death was a cruel, cold place. Working to get through it in one eighth of the time that was normally required had forced Kira to put aside her morals...it had been a very, very long six months. And then she'd had to begin establishing a reputation for herself...Asabi and Xue were, luckily, just slightly younger than her. She was twenty-three, while they were both twenty-two. They had entered the academy at the age of eighteen...as was custom...and had graduated with Kira. They had first bowed to her, calling her _La Dama de la Muerte_, when the Headmistress of the Academy...a Vampiress named Dove...had honored Kira upon her graduation...congratulating her for being not only the first in her class...but having graduated in record time.

She had become the prodigy of the Academy. The embodiment of Death's servants.

"Kira?" She glanced over at Asabi, who was still waiting for her. Xue was scouting around to make sure that it was safe to apparate. They were Death's Handmaidens, insofar as that went. They were also the ones that Kira trusted to kill her the moment she lost sight of what she had to do in this war. Headmistress Dove had been very firm with her instructions. Voldemort had mocked Death...claiming that he could defeat it. Death was answering by sending its incarnate and handmaidens to insure the shattering end of the war.

"I'm thinking of our mission." Kira admitted, wryly. "What it's going to cost all three of us."

Xue had entered at this time, and she and Asabi looked at each other for a moment before Asabi spoke...her english was better and while Kira's chinese was passable, it was better to speak in English most of the time. "Death is a demanding Master." Asabi said, softly. "You were not in the Academy for quite long enough to truly accept- in your heart- this fact. Even Headmistress Dove must accept that Death will come for her at one point in time, demanding his payment for her powers." She and Xue exchanged another glance.

"I know." Kira said, softly. "And I do not fear our Master. There are times, however, that I wish that he had chosen another to be His blades."

"It is a heavy burden you bear." Xue said in her heavily accented English. "We cannot fathom how it must feel...and yet that is why we are here. To make sure that you have the strength to carry out our Master's biddings."

"Thank you. Both of you." Kira said, quietly. The two handmaidens knew that they were blessed indeed to hold her confidence in such a way that she would admit to her fears in their presence. Kira was a very, very private person. "We'd best be going. I need to be back in England by Saturday night." They nodded, as one, the three women touched the portkey and disappeared.

**okaysoivehadanideanextchapterillstartacompletelysubstoryinthescenebreaks**

"POTTER!" Draco's voice rang out through Grimmauld Place as he stormed in, pausing only to shoot an icey-eyed glare at Old Mrs Black's portait...shutting her up before she even drew breath to scream.

"What is it, Malfoy?" Harry walked out of the kitchen, where he'd been talking to Ginny and Ron about Hermione.

"We've got a fucking problem." Draco looked positively green. "We've got a **big** fucking problem."

"Language, Malfoy..." Ginny said slowly...but it was more a phrase spoken to allow Harry, Ron, and Ginny to get their bearings with the appearance of the Slytherin-turned-Spy.

"Calm down..." Harry said, soothingly. "Ron, get Malfoy some brandy." The redhead nodded and moved to the well-stocked liquor cabinet, pouring a glass of brandy and moving to hand it to Draco, who chugged it.

"Another." He murmured. Ron looked at Harry, who shrugged and nodded. When Draco was finally sipping slowly on his fifth glass of brandy, the green edge had been replaced with a much healthier pinkish glow. "We've got a problem." Draco repeated.

"Yes. That's why we're waiting." Harry said, patiently. "For you to tell us."

"Parkinson fucking got herself caught." Draco murmured. The others in the room...especially Ron, who was in a hidden relationship with the other spy...turned pale.

"Is she..?" Harry began, as Ron poured himself a glass of brandy and chugged it.

"Yes, she's dead." There was a defeated slump to Draco's shoulders. Ginny, being the motherly figure that she was, moved to him and began massaging his shoulders. "And that's not the worst part." Draco groaned. It was clear to all of them that he was dreading telling them.

"What is it, Draco?" Harry asked, hoping that using his first name would calm the Slytherin enough that he would be able to speak clearly.

"_La Dama de la Muerte_." Draco spat.

"The Spanish Killer?" Ron asked, confused.

"There have been rumors of her presence in England..." Ginny said, slowly.

"Oh, they're more than rumors, Weasley." Draco's forced sob-laugh held no humor. "She was fucking staying at **my** manor. Father's fucking enamored with her."

"Oh fuck." Harry said, sitting down hard. "Draco...what happened to Pansy?"

"She was keeping quiet through McNair's torture..._La Dama de la Muerte_, or Kira Bronwen as she's called, had brought two other women with her. One of them...a black woman so dark that I swear she was nearly purple-tinted...excelled in torture." Draco had regained his green pallor by this time, staring miserably at the brandy in his hands. "Fucking...I don't know how Pansy managed to stay quiet as long as she did." He groaned. "McNair and the woman...Asabi, she's called by Kira...were at it for a good hour before Pansy finally broke."

"What did she tell him?" Ginny asked, but Harry held up a hand. He sensed that if Draco didn't get it out at his own pace, they would get nothing at all from the obviously distraught blonde.

"She told the Dark Lord that you had Gryffindor's Seal." Draco said. "When asked where it was, she regained her nerve and lied. McNair and Asabi...the demon of a woman...were about to continue their methods when _La Dama de la Muerte_ stepped forward." Here, he stopped and gave a short heave...nearly losing the precious brandy that was all that his stomach contained...clamping one hand to his mouth. Harry and Ginny stood back, sensing that if he were to be comforted, they wouldn't get another coherent word out of him for a considerable timespan. "I've seen torture before, Potter..." Draco said, grimly. "Hell, I've even done it...but the things that Kira did...Pansy told everything. She...oh god..." Draco collapsed into sobs, only to be drawn against Harry's strong chest. He clung to the Gryffindor with all of his might, reminded once more as to why exactly why he had turned against Voldemort.

Nobody deserved what Pansy had had to go through.

Without warning, Harry stiffened against him. Draco felt one of Harry's arms move down and into his pocket, pulling something free. Across the room, Ron was doing the same thing, looking grimly at the knut in his hand. Harry met his eyes solemnly for a long moment before nodding. Ron nodded in return and moved once more to the liquor cabinet, pulling free a pair of mirrors and a dreamless sleeping potion. Handing the potion to Harry, he moved upstairs to the Attic, where the base of the Order was set up.

Harry joined him in short order, leaving Ginny to watch over the sleeping blonde, and took his Witch's Glass from Ron, activating it. Moments later, Minerva's face, pinched and pale, appeared. After a long moment, cold brown eyes peered through the second side of the screen.

"POTTER!" Hermione shrieked. Harry flinched. "PROTECT YOUR FUCKING SPIES BETTER THAN THAT! GOD DAMN! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THAT POOR WOMAN HAD TO GO THROUGH!"

"W-who?" Harry asked, playing dumb. It was the wrong thing to do, because the cold brown eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Harold James Potter. Do **not** play games with me! Parkinson, that's who I'm talking about! God damned, don't you teach your spies **occulmency** at the very least?" Hermione was, obviously, just as shaken up as Draco had been.

"Why didn't you help her?" Ron asked, accusingly.

"What did you expect me to do, Ron? Put my entire mission in jeopardy for one spy? I couldn't even spare her any pain!"

"Hermione..." Harry said, trying to avoid an argument. "Did you see the woman called _La Dama de la Muerte_?"

There was a long silence before Hermione spoke. "I did. She was powerful, and she was frightening." Her eyes were empty as she met Harry's. "I'm glad to see that not all of your spies are as foolish as Parkinson was. However...do us all a favor and protect my cover by not telling anyone- even Ginny- about the fact that I'm undercover. I will obliviate you if I must, Harry." She looked grim. "This cover was too hard to win to allow you to blow it by shoving your foot in your mouth."

"But..." Ron began.

"Miss Granger is right, Mr. Weasley." Minerva spoke for the first time. "And if- from what I've gathered from her outburst and your accusations are true- then we no longer have Miss Parkinson to spy for us...and we will need any information that Hermione can gather. It is safer...for both her and Draco...if he does not know about her.

"But..." Harry said. He sighed, lowering his head. "Alright, Minerva...but you know that I'm not good at keeping things from Draco."

"Yes...well..." Minerva's lips curved upwards. "You'll just have to learn."

None of them noticed the calculating look floating behind the dispassionate brown eyes of the fourth person in that conversation.


End file.
